


For Every Interaction a Chain Reaction

by a_loquita



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_loquita/pseuds/a_loquita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s thought about trading, and he’s thought about moving. It’s come to this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Every Interaction a Chain Reaction

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Supplyship for her beta work.

Nathan doesn’t take the Troubles lightly. If he had the power, he wouldn’t wish for himself or anyone to be affected, not even as the saying goes, to wish it on enemies. But trading? Yeah, he’s thought about trading. Especially when the alarm goes off in the morning, too early after a very late night. In that moment, he really wouldn’t mind trading his ability to hear for his Trouble; at least he’d have a great excuse for oversleeping. Not that he can feel “tried” anymore but he still gets the idea that his body is dragging.

He rolls out of bed, shutting off the annoying beeping instead of giving in to the call of the snooze. He shuffles into the bathroom and pees; like tiredness he can’t feel a full bladder, but he knows the routine and his body sort takes over on its own in these instances. It used to feel weird and unannounced but there are things you get used to because there are bigger issues to think about.

Audrey.

Last night was a mistake. A huge black hole that will suck time and energy and light from his life kind of mistake.

He twists the knob for the shower so that one thin painted line on the tile lines up with another painted on the knob. Second-degree burns once forced him to ask a neighbor to test the temp and give him a guide, despite the fact that he hates having to admit to it, or ask for help when it comes to these things.

Shaving is always with an electric razor, breakfast is never something heated in the microwave, and thank god for the sound the washing machine makes when it’s unbalanced because if it were only vibrations that alerted a person to the issue he’d have a lot of wet laundry.

He dresses and gets into his truck, driving into the station as the school buses are picking up kids and the “morning rush hour” of Haven causes five or six cars to back up at a stop light.

He parks and enters the building, then loiters around the kitchenette area until he observes a couple of people get their morning cup of coffee, casually checking his watch and also counting the number of times they blow on it before taking a sip, all in an effort to gauge how hot it is today. The hotplate has been on the fritz lately so the standard ‘2 minutes and 45 second after pouring it into a mug before sipping’ rule has been unreliable of late.

He’s sitting at his desk flipping through a file when Audrey arrives at quarter past nine looking a little worse for the wear. He wants to feel sympathy, but then there’s that black hole thing, so maybe not so much.

“Hey,” she says cautiously. Nathan notices that she’s holding her head in a particular way and squinting in response to the not-that-bright light in their office. It could be a hangover? It could be more? He just can’t read it.

“Good morning,” he says, then immediately drops his eyes to focus on his work and avoid talking further.

Later, they’re called out to a domestic disturbance, which turns out to be nothing more than an actual domestic disturbance. He tries not to think about the fact that a woman throwing pots and pans at her cheating husband is a relief. It’s wrong that it has come to this, and he exchanges a look with Audrey that tells him he’s not the only one that feels guilty about having this same reaction.

Audrey talks to the woman until she calms down and they get the cheating husband to a motel for now. It’s about lunchtime when that wraps up so they hit the diner on the edge of town.

He’s eating a tuna sandwich and Audrey is pushing fries around on her plate but not really eating anything when the subject of last night finally comes up.

“Is it true?” she asks, not exactly looking at him but not deliberately looking away either.

He swallows a bite, carefully thinking over what his reply should be. This woman makes him want to confess all his sins. He’s not that kind of man, but it’s like everything that defines him is turned inside out when he’s around her.

“Nathan,” she says when his silence drags on. “You can be honest with me. That’s what we’re supposed to do, right?”

But it’s not. He can’t. He never should have gone out with her off-duty, never should have let himself have enough drinks to lower inhibition, perhaps allowing easier access to his thoughts and feelings by the guy sitting next to him at the bar who turns out to be an empath.

He definitely could use a move to a town where that kind of stuff doesn’t happen. So the empath can’t take one look and announce to Audrey that her partner is in love with her.

Yeah, he could use a gigantic undo button right about now.

“Can we talk about this some other time?” he asks. He swears she’s about to say no, but she must pick up on his frustration or something because she nods and goes back to her fries.

The afternoon drags, mostly paperwork and follow-up phone calls. One little boy gets lost in the market, but is found before they arrive on the scene. It’s eventually quitting time and given the slow day he’s caught up on pretty much everything but he’s reluctant to leave. So he waves at Audrey as she goes out the door, the look on her face telling him that she doesn’t buy his excuses for a minute.

He sits back in his chair and just breathes for a moment. Maybe if he could trade his Trouble for a blunted sense of smell that’d be good too, because her lingering perfume in the office isn’t helping; all he can think is that he wants that scent to linger on his pillow.

Even if she’d return his feelings – and he can’t believe it for a second – he doesn’t think he has the right to be that selfish. She’s needed by the entire town, not just him. She’s here for a reason and she needs to figure that reason out, and he’d only be a distraction.

He finally switches off the lamp, but making his way to the door in the dark is stupid because he bumps into chair. The scrape of the legs on the wood floor is the only way he knows this; the bruise won’t hurt tomorrow, but it’ll be there. A purplish-blue reminder that just because he can’t experience something doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist.

He parks his truck in front of his house and Audrey’s car is there. He was really hoping that he’d somehow avoided this, but apparently all he’s accomplished today is putting off the inevitable. He can’t blame her though.

He walks in to find her waiting in his living room sitting on the couch. Her shoes are off and her legs are drawn up, she has her chin propped on her knee. She looks like a kid waiting for her run-away puppy to come home. He wants to hold her so badly that it takes everything he has to remain in place.

“Make yourself right at home,” he says dryly.

“If you’re not going to talk to me about this, than the least you can do is listen.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Parker. I would talk about it, but there’s nothing to say.”

“Is it true?”

This is the third time she’s asked, and he figures it’s his turn now. “Tell me this, do you love me?”

“No,” she says softly.

“Then what does it matter what my answer is?”

There are tears at the corner of her eyes. She gets up and crosses to him, taking his hand. “Because I don’t think I’m in love with you yet. But I think I could be headed that way.”

He’s trying to be firm, but when she’s this close everything comes alive inside. It starts with the softness of her fingers against his skin, and suddenly he feels everything. Not just her, but the night breeze through the open windows, the rush of excitement, the tightness of his jeans, the press of her lips against his cheek, and he can’t hold it together anymore. Not against that onslaught.

He pulls her against him, holding on tight to the only anchor he has to the real world. “Audrey,” his voice breaks a little.

“I know that I care about you,” she says. “More than I’m supposed to care for my partner, and that’s a start, right?”

It’s not only that, it’s hope. Maybe he wouldn’t trade any of this after all. He knows he’d feel this way about her even if he weren’t Troubled. But he might have never realized just how much he loves her if he hadn’t known how it feels when she chases the numbness away and gives him life. He’ll do anything to show her in return.

“It’s a start,” he whispers before he kisses her.


End file.
